


they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered

by kenmaniacc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Kuroo Tetsurou, Character Study, Fluffy, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Quarantine Shenanigans, Relationship Study, Romance, Smut, So much tenderness, and intimacy, briefest mention of other characters, kuroo tetsurou is a big fucking simp, tiktoker kuroo lmao, tooth rooting fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmaniacc/pseuds/kenmaniacc
Summary: he holds his breath for a second, feeling the gentle inhale and exhale of another being tickling his throat, and only when kenma yawns and the tip of his cold nose buries against kuroo’s neck does the raven breathe again. he gasps a little complaint to cold toes against his calves right after and ignores the quietest snicker in the world coming from kenma.kuroo, in the end, just accepts it all with a sigh and it melts into a smile again.god, he is so terribly in love it’s unbearable — but if he didn’t die after so long, he supposes he might survive one more day.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 22
Kudos: 178





	they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered

**Author's Note:**

> hiya, loveys!  
> this is honestly by far the thing i am most proud of until now, only becaus it was one hell of a ride to write it, involving a lot of self doubt, because honestly, i love kuroken so much it hurts and i just wanted to try and do them justice and i hope i achieved it, at least in a certain degree. i hope you guys will like and have fun with this, as much as i did writing it, despite it all.  
> this is an ode to kuroo tetsurou, one of the biggest simps in haikyuu and the most thoughtful idiot out there. may he always receive the love he deserves!!!!!!!  
> biggest thank you to @ffskuroo, @moontogauva and @AngstWeaver on twitter for all the help and encouragement!!!

as dawn breaks into morning and the not so fortunate workers have to leave their houses to face another day among the pandemic, he settles.

he settles for not moving, for fingers sifting lightly through dark hair that turns into blonde at the tips, longer than they used to be. the fact that he has been able to see it change and grow for fifteen years brings a warm, fuzzy feeling that runs from the tip of his nose to his toes.

he can only acknowledge the blonde bits due to the light the windows can't contain, partially illuminating the dark room, the stray rays of sunshine starting to break through the ranmas on the wall. it creates patterns of bamboo leaves against the shoji, seemingly ethereal enough for him to consider that he must still be dreaming. it wouldn’t be a surprise if it was so.

maybe a combination of his fertile imagination and poor life choices during college years could definitely have fried his brain a bit, because he did try a couple of things at parties and what not; recreationally and out of curiosity, of course. 

however, kuroo wasn’t one for new vices. every corner of his mind had already been consumed by one and like it’s certain that the sun will bask earth in light everyday, it’s certain too that he will stick with it to the rest of his life.

his vice was right beside him. breathing slowly and deeply, flesh and bones, to him the embodiment of warmth.

  
  


it’s that that, in the end, makes the man accept with glee that all that surrounds him is real, as real as the beats of his own heart. but still, he catches himself divided between watching the reflection of light slowly change or focus on the rise and fall of the chest of the person breathing next to him —— it’s a foolish contest, the latter always wins. 

his eyes drift.

a piece of pale skin marked with a tiny mosquito bite, messy white sheets and a duvet hogged to only one side of the mattress that lies above the tatame that they call _their_ bed. it’s their typical scene on lazy mornings such as this, a ritual that he is certainly going to miss once it all goes back to normal, if it ever completely does, and despite having nothing to cover himself properly he doesn’t feel cold.

he does not dare to get even closer to the other either as he vigils his sleep, like an artist afraid to touch a masterpiece, a priest admiring it’s deity. he is afraid of disturbing his peacefulness —— even if he should probably move his arm from under the other’s head, barely feeling his fingertips due to the uncomfortable (and quite rare) position they slept in.

as always, though, he welcomes the dull ache on his shoulder with a smile, heart singing against his ribcage.

this is his penitence for daring to have something holy all to himself.

but one can never say he is not a masochist anyway. he finds solace and pleasure in it all, solemnly for the possibility that enduring it holds. more often than not, it pays well.

today, he notices, is one of these lucky days as he watches in awe the slow blink of amber eyes in the somewhat dim room, feeling the movement of his companion’s body as it stirs while the half-blonde reclaims his ownership and control over the limbs, so close to his own. half-lidded and still a little unfocused those amber eyes that he longs to see everyday focus back on his own, and kuroo turns completely on his side.

he aligns himself on the same level as the other, letting him get closer, _closer_ , until kuroo’s body goes white-hot at the contact points —— there’s not one part of him that is not burning.

it’s in that moment that it all aches the most. his shoulder, because he was careless in his movement, his heart, because it swells on his chest as if ready to burst, seemingly growing twice it’s size as he feels a face glued to his skin now, unabashedly letting go of a small whine that was until now stuck on his throat.

there’s no mockiness from the other as he does so, and he is grateful for the small mercy. 

it’s funny how they both work together and it’s funny how it just doesn’t matter how his life and thoughts are sometimes scattered all over the place, because while kissing the crown of kenma’s hair it all assembles like puzzle pieces and it _makes sense_. 

if he could hear his thoughts, kenma would say he is overly dramatic and too mellow. it’s not like he is wrong.

he holds his breath for a second, feeling the gentle inhale and exhale of another being tickling his throat, and only when kenma yawns and the tip of his cold nose buries against kuroo’s neck does the raven breathe again. he gasps a little complaint to cold toes against his calves right after and ignores the quietest snicker in the world coming from kenma.

kuroo, in the end, just accepts it all with a sigh and it melts into a smile again.

god, he is so terribly in love it’s unbearable —— but if he didn’t die after so long, he supposes he might survive one more day.

“you were watching me sleep again.” it’s not a question, it’s raspy and sweet, and kuroo thinks that today they should have pancakes with raspberries and honey for breakfast.

“i will only speak in the presence of my lawyers.” he quippies, voice still low and soft as the other is yet waking up, grin stretching as a groan is muffled against his adam’s apple and kenma’s short nails scratch lightly against his lower back, where one of his hands had settled.

“weirdo simp.” but it comes out light-hearted, kenma’s voice changing to something slightly more human, _more kenma_ , dripping in nonchalance as he doesn’t make any efforts to get away from kuroo. “what is gross is that you actually have lawyers working for you.”

“says the guys with actual stocks on the market. you know what we are?”

“... don’t say it.”

  
  


“capitalist icons.” he smirks, way too full of himself, and to that kenma actually looks up full of distaste, nose scrunched up, eyes barely open with sleep. 

he doesn’t hold back on his giggle to it and today kenma doesn’t seem to mind. if anything, the half-blonde only buries himself deeper against him and holds tighter for a second as the mornings are when his reactions come the most honest, the most raw. 

kuroo _loves_ the mornings. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


____________________________________________________________

  
  
  
  
  
  


he is flipping pancakes when he feels slender arms surrounding his middle, finding immediate comfort at the press of kenma’s face between his shoulder blades. delicate fingers trace over his navel under his shirt and his concentration waivers, igniting a buzz under his skin as kuroo finds in himself to grin.

kuroo knows that he should be silent at the touch as kenma will so rarely initiate things, so he really tries to shut up, resuming to his cooking as if nothing was even happening. still, as kenma nails dig lightly at the sensitive flesh his hand on the handle of the pan tightens.

fingertips keep caressing, featherlike, not a sexual touch per se but his cheeks still start to warm up, his body acutely sensitive to the ministrations and the thing is, kenma _knows_ —— he is a sadist like that. he knows he is making kuroo’s skin tremor lightly, he knows his breath will soon start to come short, _he knows_.

still, kuroo can’t find space to feel anything but love for him when the other’s hands settle on each side of his hips, maybe because kenma probably can sense that he can’t hold back anymore —— kuroo had managed to hold his tongue for the whole _two_ minutes. thankfully, despite his troubles the pancakes were already set on the plate. 

“ah, if people could see the world famous kodzuken right now, bet they don’t know you are a little shit.” he sings with a hint of dramaticity, no weight to his words as he breathes slowly in relief and then yelps as kenma pinches his skin before backing off.

“nobody asked you anything.”

it’s a good thing kuroo has steady hands from years of volleyball and learning how to control his every move, else the plate would probably have fallen to the ground.

but even if it did, his reaction wouldn’t be different. he simply laughs an ugly laugh and follows the other to the dining room, setting the food on the table before he sits on the floor, in front of kenma.

there’s a tv there but they never turn it on when they are like this, his focus on kenma’s round face and hair slightly loose, messy from sleeping on a bun he won’t mind fixing until later, if at all.

kuroo eats, but he is not even thinking, just watching. watching kenma chew, watching honey drip on plushy lips as kenma bites the soft piece of pancake, watching his tongue come out of his mouth and lavish it clean.

kenma chews some more, looks at him right back and rolls his eyes.

“you are insufferable.” he counters, not for the first time, but there’s a flush spreading over his cheeks.

“you like it.” he flashes a smirk, with the certainty and presumptuous charm of the conman he is. 

“completely debatable.”

“you could’ve kicked me out fifteen years ago.” he offers, raising an eyebrow.

“too much trouble.” kenma quips, mouth half full and still chewing because this is kuroo and it’s their house and he doesn’t care. “you would have cried like a baby and my mom would nag at me for it.” he stuffs his mouth full with more pancakes, kuroo’s grin widens.

“you could’ve when i said i wanted to live with you here.”

golden eyes level him, contempt written in every line of his beautiful face as it crinkles and there’s an orchestra playing an ode to this single display of annoyance in kuroo’s head even though he gasps to his boyfriend’s next remark.

“you would have cried even more, still too much trouble.”

“would not!” he answers, picturing how his twenty one year old self was trembling as he said those words to a twenty year old unimpressed kenma, already getting richer by the day whilst kuroo still had to conquer his spot in the world and had nothing to give to him but his heart and body.

“would too.” that never mattered to kenma though, he never wanted more than that from kuroo anyway. “snotty and all.”

“would not.” he insists, blinking as he notices that the food is now gone from kenma’s plate.

he stares as the smaller slowly gets up, legs bare to the raven’s eyes to analyse, the rest of him covered by one of kuroo’s old shirts. kuroo’s tongue suddenly became too heavy on his mouth to even say anything slightly smart.

“would too.” kenma says again, softly, _knowing_ , and walks to stop beside him, looking down with disdain still etched on his expression, but it’s meaningless, it changes into a small smile. he touches kuroo’s face tenderly and caresses his chin and kuroo altogether forgets how to function or why they were bantering in the first place. “thanks for the food.”

mirth drenches the gentle curve of kenma’s mouth, as if he can read kuroo’s mind, and then he lets go and leaves to take his plate to the kitchen.

kuroo’s chin is tingling as he watches him do so.

and yeah, kuroo could have cried, _ugly cried_. he feels like crying even now as he buries his face on his hands because his boyfriend is clearly a gremlin demon, heartless little asshole. but in the end, he doesn’t mind.

he recovers after a few seconds and eats the rest of his food as he laughs to himself, because he wouldn’t change a thing.

  
  


he can hear kenma calling him dork from the kitchen.

  
  


____________________________________________________________

  
  
  
  


“kenmaaaa, you promised.” kuroo tetsurou is not afraid to whine.

hell, if it meant that kenma would stop and do what he was asking, he would whine for three days in a roll without pauses for water, but until now the only thing kenma has done was looking at him with murderous intent, like he was a cockroach that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

it’s kinda hot.

“i didn’t promise anything.” he says, annoyance tainting his voice as he stares back into the screen of the computer, fingers moving dexterously over the keyboard and mouse as he tries to do something he is always trying to do: ignore kuroo. 

he never really succeeds.

kuroo remains at his feet, being annoying, wiggling his way in between his legs to kenma’s utter discontentment. he clings to him like an oversized koala that doesn’t have a sense of space or is afraid to die.

and truth be told, at the moment he wouldn’t bother himself with trying to as kenma still hasn’t pushed his face away or stopped typing, which only means that kuroo hasn’t pushed it too far _yet_.

and besides, the younger one is being petulant as well.

“yes you did, you said you wouldn’t stay on everyday until two fucking am so we could watch the ghibli movies, that was like three nights ago, you liar.” it’s not that he is needy as much as he is worried. since the quarantine started, kenma had made a habit of streaming more, so he only wanted to guarantee that he would have some rest here and there.

the company and annoying him while at it is, however, an undeniable plus. 

“i didn’t say anything about watching it tod-can you stop?! i am working!” ah, and there it was.

he couldn’t contain his snicker as he rubbed his nose against kenma’s tummy, which got softer with the lack of exercise in the last years, but kuroo loved it all the same. because he enjoys living dangerously, he shimms his hands underneath his shirt too, getting full access to velvet skin. his smell is so intoxicating that even the weight of kenma’s hand smacking his head not so lightly seems to be enough to bother him to step away, for kenma’s utter annoyance. 

“let go! go away, who let you come in here?! i am gonna lock you in the closet!” and for all the slaps and slight hair pulling and face pushing, when the blonde finally manages to push him away, smushing kuroo’s face with his hands, the idiot is smiling slyly.

“but kozume-san, we are already living together, let’s face that the closet is not an option anymore!”

“...” he smashes his cheeks harder, knitting his brows impossibly close together as he scorns. _he is beautiful_ , kuroo thinks dumbly enough, slightly breathless like that. 

  
  


“kenma!! come on, you need a break, turn it off! besides, if you keep it like that quarantine will be over and we won’t have watched a single movie!” and just like that, his tone had softened to something more pledging as did the hold of kenma’s fingers on his face. it is filled with too much history and too much fondness, that undeniable love and _care_ that for sure was the reason behind the blush creeping over kenma’s scrunched up and disgusted expression. “.... i made popcorn and everything.”

with a grunt he pushes the taller man one last time, enough for kuroo to fall lightly, sitting on his butt, and for kenma to put a socked foot against his face. “shut it and let me save this, you are so annoying, i can’t even finish my stuff.” 

and he is, really. annoying enough for his eyes to glint and make kenma chew on his bottom lip as kuroo laughs and smiles sincerely in victory, which only caused the half-blonde to push his foot against the side of his face again, but kuroo merrily kisses the sole, retreating and letting go with hands up in surrender because kenma is positively still fuming as he pointedly stared at him again. 

  
  
  


as he thinks very highly of his neck and rather keep it intact, he retreats to the living room to pester the cats and patiently wait for kenma.

  
  


____________________________________________________________

  
  
  


“it’s so crazy that i have a pet... with his own thoughts! he is so vibrant.” his voice is no more than a mumble, phone in hand to record themselves.

partially, it’s a small act of kindness as kenma is annoyed enough as it is, looking ten seconds away of killing him if the weird way his eyes gleam under the light are any giveaway. he hasn’t blinked for the last minute, probably filling his petit but oh-so-perfect body with hatred (it’s amazing how much fits in it, would be enough for an elephant) but even that contributes to the footage kuroo needs for the tiktok video. 

“i’m gonna strangle you.” kuroo doesn’t even flinch, eyeing the phone as he starts the edition.

“i’m so happy this is gonna be a quick one, the one i did yesterday took forever, my eyesight is bad enough as it is for me to stay glued on the screen like that.” somehow, he is managing to do the whole thing with only one hand, the other holding kenma in place, his hair tickling kuroo’s chin as it rests on top of his head.

“i’m gonna strangle you, then cut you in pieces and burn it all. then i’m gonna do the same with bokuto, akaashi will have to understand. it’s all his fault.”

“he wants to do one when it’s more chill, which hopefully will be soon. not that i’m worried, akaashi is watching him like a hawk, they both haven’t been out at all. oh, shit-” he stopped himself as he had to raise his other hand to the phone to make the cut, any other thing would have resulted in the phone falling, possibly on kenma’s head, and _that_ wouldn’t end well for anyone. 

“i hate you.” to that, kuroo smirks. 

not that he dismisses what kenma is saying completely, he would never. anything that leaves his lips tends to resonate deeply in parts of himself that he didn’t even know were there in the first place, like his heart keeps creating new space, new chambers to cherish every little thing related to them or kenma.

the death threats have the most special place, always getting the spotlight.

he can’t really blame kenma, obviously. the tiktok thing started as a joke between bokuto and him, ironically to mock what teenagers were doing these days during quarantine. jokes on them now, because both got invested enough that the until then unknown concept of creating internet content turned into a harsh reality that forced kuroo to spend way too much time on his phone — when he wasn’t having long distance reunions with the national volleyball association.

that totally messed up the natural balance of the universe, as god knows kenma was the one responsible for filling up the techno savvy space in their relationship, and he is starting to resent the activity. hence, among other reasons, why he wants to kill kuroo now.

clearly, though, none of the threats would turn into reality as the half-blonde doesn’t do much more than pull the blanket more over them, holding tighter to kuroo, face still a display of hatred to the situation for now being part of the shenanigan even if unwillingly. 

the adorable contradiction that he is would’ve been too much for a lesser man, but not kuroo. he is a resilient lesser man. 

“kenma, come on, it’s not so bad. we can do a bunch of mini clips together, it would be cute.” he says, nudging with his nose to the space behind his ear gently, phone still up in the air. 

“i hate this stupid quarantine. i loved it, but you ruined everything. you two and this app ruined everything.” to that, he has to snort, moving his face to go back to resting his chin on kenma’s head.

“my, my, world famous kodzuken, you can’t let your fans catch you saying that, they will think you actually mean i-” and just let that, the phone fell. on the top of kenma’s head. 

there wasn’t a sound if not for the cicadas outside, saluting what would certainly be kuroo’s last summer. for seconds he doesn’t even dare to breath, the silence deafening, hands still stuck mid air where they tried to grasp the cellphone one last time.

nothing, no word, not the blink of an eye. 

very slowly, kenma turns, grabbing it and putting it on the tatame, the rest of air kuroo had on his lungs leaves altogether on a soundless gasp.

“ _start begging_.”

he isn’t ashamed to say that in the next second he was kneeling and doing as much.

  
  


____________________________________________________________

  
  
  


as the sunset approaches he stirs awake, not exactly his favorite process.

kenma hates waking up. he hates how his body feels stiffy, morpheus’s hands still gripping tightly, trying to keep his conscience at bay. unsurprisingly, it always takes more than ten minutes for him to be able to fully process his surroundings. 

that’s one of the many reasons why kuroo used to have to wake him up when they had a morning practice, otherwise kenma would simply _not go_. now though, if kenma’s ludicrous bank account bought him anything useful, it is the right to sleep until whatever hour he wants —— usually at least until 11 am, early mornings being an exception to when he actually _wants_ to spend them with his boyfriend.

he would never reveal such thing, however, because kuroo is already annoying as it is.

annoying and sweet.

so sweet, with adoration gleaming in his eyes, all soft earnest expressions and gentle manners. kuroo is precisely everything that kenma isn’t when it comes to really caring about the world and so stupidly human that, sometimes, kenma even considers if he is _really_ real and not a character from one of his many games that he loved to the point of it creating life in his head and becoming _tangible_ , just for him. 

he is painfully aware that he isn’t when he has to share him with the world, with his job, with their friends even. 

but those are kenma’s most private thoughts, fleeting desires and a truth he never voices because they are not, in fact, his values and beliefs. it’s just his _possessiveness_. the one that people so rarely get to see because there’s nothing that he prizes more than individuality and liberty, a need that is imperious even in their relationship, especially because there wouldn’t be one without it.

sometimes, though, he wants to express that tiny part of himself.

he definitely feels like doing so as, looking to the side, he sees kuroo’s skin glinting beautifully as the golden hour basks in their room and his still sleeping form.

his hair is disheveled, which is never a surprise, but his whole persona looks out of an 80’s sitcom because he decided to take a nap while still wearing _half_ of his suit. 

“a perfectly respectable man, kenma”, that’s what he claimed he had to look like, even during a pandemic, to make a good impression at the board meeting of the promotion division of the japan volleyball association. it’s what was needed to get all the yeses he needed to the campaign he wanted to make with the japanese youth team across the country —— online at the moment, obviously.

despite actually getting what he was looking for, kuroo now looks simply _a mess_. the jacket open, shirt all wrinkled, red necktie loose. and if it wasn’t enough, waist down he sports the most stupid and horrendous hello kitty’s boxers that bokuto gave to him as joke three christmases ago. that thing needs to be burnt, kenma thinks, and kuroo is drooling.

it is in no way appealing, and yet kenma finds himself raising a hand, fingers carding through thick and absurdly soft strands with reverence. he lets them sink at it, massaging the scalp, unable to hold the tug at the edges of his lips as he watches kuroo hold his two pillows tighter, closer to his head, unconsciously nuzzling at it.

it was so disgustingly adorable that kenma’s heart was doing somersaults and he _sighed_ , way too fond.

“oh, isn’t this the sweetest turn of the tide, kozume-san?” he hears a rasp, the words still making kenma stir for being caught red handed, but he shows his revulsion to the callout by tugging at kuroo’s locks as a warning.

it merely elicits a groan as kuroo tosses one of his pillows aside, just so kenma could see his face, now against the bed, smirking defiantly at him with a boyish blush rising to his cheeks as he doesn’t move from his position laying on his belly. 

“i already regret it, you can never leave things alone.” kenma notes, and anything else that was to happen now, he would blame on that smile. 

that smile, the only capable of igniting something at the pitt’s of his stomach that only kuroo could and had to take responsibility for. that smile, that made him curse under his breath and kuroo’s breath hitch as the half-blonde was soon straddling his hips, hands idly moving through the expanse of his covered back until he got to his shoulder.

  
  


his touch is light, but not less dominant, and it was kenma who smirked next as he noticed a faint trace of red painting the tips of kuro’s ears.

it was beautiful.

“jacket off and arms up, kuro.” an old nickname, all it took for the man beneath him to hold his breath, shivers greeting covered skin.

all that was heard in the expanse of the room was a confirmation groan, because kuroo _knew better_ , and then there he was, jacket off and arms up. it was a vision that delighted kenma enough for him to acknowledge the width of his sides with a careful stroke of hands that mapped and raised goosebumps as they drifted until his ribs and back south, stopping at his sturdy waist under the shirt.

kuroo trembles, kenma smiles.

it wasn’t often that they were in reversed roles like this, although kenma had naturally a much more dominant disposition he didn’t mind kuroo being the one to usually take the lead. however, once in a while it struck him that he had to _show him_.

show him that he cares just as much, through the way the gamer’s hands keep glazing over hot skin that comes to life under his touch, feeling the shape of all those powerful and beautiful muscles until they stopped at the lower back. his thumbs settle over dimples and press down on a massage that gets the first moan straight out of kuroo’s throat; still coy, needy.

“you need to relax.” and what his controlled voice didn’t give away his face showed, at the color also painting kenma’s cheeks as he moves, already half-hard on his pants, to unstraddle him —— he knew kuroo had felt it, he was supposed to as the point was clearly not give him peace.

because if it was then he wouldn’t slide dexterous fingers under the hems of the leg’s of his boxers, collecting fabric and tremors on his way to hold at the sides around his hips only to pull at them, caging kuroo’s certain erection. he watches, all dilated pupils and controlled breathing as the other ruts against the bed and hide his face on it because he is already a mess.

_his mess_.

“ _k-kenma_...” he was already begging and kenma desperately wanted to turn that into an unintelligible mumble by putting his fingers on his mouth, but that would make continuing with his ministrations with liberty impossible and that wouldn’t do.

that’s why with a huff he tugs at the horrible boxers, tapping at kuroo’s side and it doesn’t take five seconds for him to understand and move his hips to make the trouble of taking them off easier. at times like this, kenma feels deeply annoyed and enamorated by his boyfriend’s stupid long legs. he too intends to show that, but first things first. 

  
  


and first things for him is folding the boxer neatly.

there’s no trace of rush as the air grows thicker, as kuroo grows impatient, cock hanging heavy between his legs, pressed against his belly and the sheets and the tension builds only to be released as the piece turns into a small, chunky square that kenma brings to the raven’s mouth.

_oh yes_ , it’s a hideous piece, but as kuroo blushes and bites on it, he feels like it becomes a bearable item in his wardrobe.

kuroo shivers, kenma smiles.

it’s gentle and honest and as bare as he can afford to be for a second, only to kuroo’s eyes. he touches his cheek bones, thumb swifting weightless over the left side of his face, reaching his ears, lava running on his veins as the brunette relaxes into it, tender and intimate, turning his face to nuzzle at the middle of kenma’s palm as he stretches a bit over shoulders and elbows. 

kenma wants to engrave the image on his eyelids and see it in his sleep. he chooses to peck at his cheek by leaning forward, and then resumes to get up as kuroo goes back to pressing his face against the bed. 

his arms are still up, the expectation is still there on the way that long fingers tighten around the sheets, simmering on his now lustful eyes. 

kenma for a second considers his options, but in the end he is quick on his short march to their drawer, grabbing lube and a cloth. the fabric he leaves beside the mattress, the other item he opens to generously coat his knuckles. 

  
  


“do you know how you look right now?” 

it’s a question that doesn’t expect an answer, his tone heavy with a thirst that he barely recognizes as his own. he knows kuroo wants to talk, if the muffled whimper he hears is any giveaway but kenma doesn’t give him the chance.

the wet pad of his thumb presses against the rim, circling gently and _slowly_ , so slowly that kenma knows he is being cruel but every new throaty mumble from the other helps to ignite the fire already burning on his belly.

it’s an addictive thing, really, watching the man who pretends to be so controlled and poised that is kuroo to raise his hips as kenma’s hand threatens to go too far away when he stops his motions. all of his facades are down just for him, he is seeking contact, begging with beautiful golden eyes engulfed in black and thick desire as he looks over his shoulder.

kenma’s finger presses in, slowly but without pause until four delicate fingers are gripping at kuroo’s left cheek, the raven’s eyes not visible anymore as his face contorts in pleasure, forehead now pressed against the bed.

kenma wants to fuck him into oblivion on the spot.

“ _you look so beautiful, tetsurou_.” he coos at his form and leans in to kiss at his spine, delicate brush of lips over skin as his thumb moves languidly while kuroo moans, dampening the underwear in his mouth with saliva.

the half-blonde feels him burn, can feel his walls tightening around his thumb as if not sure to fight the invasion or trap him there. his whimper is syrup sweet on kenma’s ears, mournful as the streamer moves his finger away after a few seconds, lustful once more as soon as two knuckles are filling him again.

it's a gradual motion, careful and precise as only kenma can be, lube drizzling out down his testicles to wet the bed. it matches the splot already created by the precum coming from his cock, and kuroo knows he is _done_.

kenma is merciless, patience forged in iron as kuroo all but whimpers, dampening the gag that keeps him from being coherent as the pressure inside him increases and kenma’s fingers work him open; never going faster, never stirring enough for him to recover and breath. it’s a continuous and delicious torture that makes him topple over the edge, only to be pulled out of it as they are suddenly gone, leaving his hole to twitch against nothing, kenma’s attention already somewhere else.

his hands, wet and dry fingers are busying themselves on relearning the expanse of his thighs. small lips kiss over soft and hot flesh that gets damp as kenma nips against it, sucking a bruise at the slope where kuroo’s right cheek meets his leg. 

he whimpers a plea, all broken moans as fingertips caress the delicate skin behind his knees whilst kenma sucks another hickey at his inner thigh. the contrast of the touches make him rut against the bed as it drives him so close to insanity, and the half-blonde knows it.

  
  


he stops, fleeting touches becoming more solid as he tightens his grip on kuroo’s legs, biting a mark on his ass that drags a growl from kuroo’s throat, kissing the indents he just made right after.

“ _you wanna cum already, don’t you_?” his tone is flat, devoid from all the emotions he is feeling only because he knows what it does to kuroo, knows that his heart is hammering against his ribcage as his thumbs massage his puckered hole again, exposing the area to kenma’s hungry eyes as he spreads him apart. kuroo’s legs are shaking slightly as he opens them a bit more. 

“ _ah_ , you wanna cum, even though i didn’t touch you that much. _you are_ so _needy_ , _tetsurou_.” he whispers and kuroo but _writhes_ , desperation lacing his tensioned muscles as he holds back as hard as he can on the waves of pleasure traveling through his blood stream, but it’s in vain.

“and you _deserve_ to cum.”

kenma’s voice is the embodiment of sin, a soft lilt that lingers in the air and licks his bones, making him gasp and arch as those small and perfect hands knead his ass while kuroo’s hips buckle against the bed in the search for friction. he feels filthy and sanctified, personified disparite with tears burning his eyes at the praise.

“ _cum for me, kuro_.” and just like this, his world burns white. kenma’s fingers ramm into him relentlessly once more, pushing at the cluster of nerves inside his body until he cries out, his orgasm a heat wave that travels through his limbs and explodes to make a mess of his stomach and the bed.

and still, kenma doesn’t stop.

there’s a desperate whimper that sounds a lot like kenma’s name cutting out within the panting because the fingers inside kuroo are still moving and are now _three_. it’s a deliberate motion, caressing his walls viciously, lovingly and exploratory while oversensitivity hits hard enough for tears to flow down the raven's cheeks. 

he tries to jerk away from it for a second, gasps and hisses and claws at the sheets but never frees himself from kenma’s touch, because he still _craves_ it. with kenma he doesn’t think, he just let go as he would trust him to guide him blindly to the pit’s of hell.

and he is so beautiful like this, so undone, that kenma can’t take it anymore. 

“ _tetsurou_.” he breathes and it sounds like a prayer that latches to kuroo’s spine and takes his breath away.

_they are far from done_.

kenma finally retreats his fingers so he can recover if for mere seconds as the half-blonde lathers his palm with more lube quickly, shoving down his sweatpants to spread it over his painful erection.

“ _you are so good_.” he mutters, slightly breathless in reverence as he guides himself into crushing and overwhelmingly perfect _heat_ , relentlessly so as kuroo writhes _again_ , until skin meets skin and the universe resumes in the four walls surrounding them and their bodies.

nothing else matters but this, kenma thinks.

nothing else matters but the way the muscles in kuroo’s back works as he fucks shallowly into him, the snap of his hips gentle and well paced, designed to make more tears fall down kuroo’s cheeks and _they do._

they do and kuroo looks over his shoulder, chest against the bed and he is perfect yet again. so good, so pliant under him, all flushed and damp skin, saliva coming down his chin as the improvised gag is not capable of containing everything. 

it’s only as the tension builds up that kuroo then moves a hand as he pulls one of his arms back because he wants to hold kenma’s hand. kenma knows it and a feeling clutches at his heart, that unfathomable love that overflows as he intertwines their fingers and grinds into him deeper while staring right back at his golden eyes.

  
  


kuroo _tries_ , he really tries to keep them open but he can’t. the pleasure is already too big and he sobs still holding kenma’s hand as kenma doesn’t fuck him faster but harder, grinding _deeper_ , painfully and marvelously so.

he can’t do much but shudder and whine, trying to fuck his hips back. his mind is all _kenma_ , _kenma_ , _kenma_ and _kenma_ and kenma grips with his other hand at the tie around his neck and pulls, making him gag.

once again, kuroo is done for.

“ _you are so good... perfect, tetsurou_.” the raven thinks he hears, but he is not sure because the way that kenma pulls the tie makes it hard to breath and think even as he arches his back, forming a sinful bow with his body that leaves kenma spellbound. 

“ _mine_.” he thinks he hears again and it resonates on his skin, but the slow and strong drag of kenma’s hips hit’s is too staggering and he _snaps_ , tensing and melting again, coming so hard for the second time that for an instant his mind goes blank, toes curling.

it’s not a feeling that it’s his alone, because kenma is tipping over the tightrope and on him with ragged breaths, spurting white hot inside his boyfriend. his forehead is glistening with sweat and soon resting against kuro’s still covered back as his hips still move unrhythmical before finally holding still, however his exertion is worth it as he looks and sees the sated expression on the raven’s face.

unraveled like this, kenma thinks he never looked better.

at it, he kisses his cheek. he kisses it again and again, and at the nape of his neck and jaw as his thumb caresses the hand he is still holding, his other serving to hold his body up against the bed because his wobbly knees can't fully be trusted as kenma slowly shims out of kuroo.

the latter still whimpers as he does so, mourning the emptiness, and kenma caresses his hair as he sits beside his body with laziness making every one of his moves happen in slow motion. he sighs once again as he finally takes the underwear out off kuroo’s mouth, all damp, cleaning his chin and his lubed hand with it before tossing it to the side.

just then he allows himself to relax beside kuroo. he allows himself to really look at him and watch as his breathing changes from labored to as tranquil as summer breeze, blowing gently outside the protection of their house. 

he allows himself to kiss at his jaw once again and at his neck whilst kuroo opens and closes his mouth now that he is able to, kenma's fingertips lavishing his face and neck with gentleness so he can completely relax. kenma allows himself to look at him straight in his half lidded tired eyes and smile, watching a smirk stretch lazily over kuroo’s red lips.

“you are cute.” kenma doesn’t resist and says, and kuroo flushes red across his cheeks a bit more, a breathy laughter erupting from his chest and kenma drinks the sound with a kiss, licks whatever word the man was about to say into his mouth to taste it on his tongue and kuroo let’s him.

his silly and sweet soulmate let’s him, and kenma does it again and again before gathering enough courage to grab the forgotten cloth beside their mattress to clean him as best as he can, still deluging caresses through his work.

that too, kuroo deserves.

afterall, once kuroo is out of his post-orgasmic daze, they still have to figure out dinner.

  
  


____________________________________________________________

  
  
  


as kuroo plops on the couch again, piece of pizza between his lips, his body stings. it occurs to him that things are never what they seem.

kenma, for example.

the streamer merely glances over his boyfriend and only opens his legs in invitation for him to settle between them, which kuroo does after half a second of consideration, doing so belly down because his back hurts _less_ like this. 

kenma to anyone might seem delicate and ethereal, which he _is_ , but also _is not_. 

even if normally he is the one chanting breathless moans and clanging on kuroo, it’s after altercations like that that reality bites the raven in the ass (quite literally) and he understands fully that kenma is actually the one that _always_ has an upper hand.

it’s actually a mere fact that the kuroo sometimes forgets, but he is a-okay with it.

“... are you alright?” kenma asks and kuroo blinks, just then noticing that he was staring at his boyfriend with a piece of pizza hanging on his mouth.

he has to laugh, because he certainly looks idiotic and there’s a warmth spreading over his cheeks, but kuroo doesn’t really mind much. 

“yeah, i was just thinking that you are relentless.” he wiggles his brows and kenma but rolls his eyes while kuroo chews, turning his face to stare at the scene of howl’s moving castle rolling on their big 4k screen. 

“you are such a pain in the ass.” 

“ah, actually i can vouch that that’s you at the moment, kenma-kun.” that costs him a flick on his forehead, which hurts, but it’s worth it as he sees kenma’s flushed cheeks and pouty lips first hand like this. “hey, it’s okay~ i’m sorry, i won't say anything else embarrassing.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep, kuro.” kenma says, matter of factly, and kuroo only laughs again.

he doesn’t say much more because kenma’s hands are once more caressing his hair and elation is the only thing he can feel as he relaxes against his smaller body. kuroo even forgets for a second about the craziness going on around them, it’s almost like the pandemic is a collective delusion as it seems to never bother them anymore.

but it wasn’t always like that.

this sensation was a conquered peace, one that passed through an initial general anxiety in their house, with them worrying about friends and their families that lived away and were more susceptible to the disease. with kenma having even a panic attack once when he heard that taketora had gotten it and was at the hospital and kuroo’s hands shaking every time something new popped up in the news, even if he tried to hide it with stupid jokes and smiles.

taketora recovered, thankfully. they recovered too, from the fights, from taking the frustration and fear out on eachother once they understood that somethings simply _were what they were_ and couldn’t be changed. 

it hadn’t been easy, but in five months they had the time to work on it and find this new sense of normalcy amidst the world crisis and find peace in _themselves_. 

“ne, kenma…” he starts, thoughts floating away with the motions of the fingers dancing on his scalp. he hears a humming of acknowledgement and he smiles, looking up. “ _you are cute too._ ”

it’s kind of a three hour too late compliment, and much more at the same time, but as usual kenma understands him. 

he understands that kuroo is simply thankful that things are okay.

he understands and hums once more and takes the pizza away from his boyfriend’s mouth, where it was again, to peck at his lips. he understands and he bites at the pizza, resuming after on petting kuroo’s messy locks again and looking back at the movie where howl is having a meltdown over his hair. 

“he is so dumb.”

“dumber than me?”

“nobody is dumber than you.”

“and they say love is gentle and kind...”

they banter and it’s silly, but it’s _okay_. because some things simply are and _they simply are_ and with all the ups and downs of life, kuroo still wouldn’t change a single thing in his life for the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated, and please, feel more than free to come scream about kuroken to me at twitter, i am @kenmaniacc!
> 
> much love!


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